young men

A wise principal at my son's elementary school was giving a talk. In it, she said something about being a parent. "It's forever like having your heart walk around outside your body."

When Alexander lived at home, I could never fall asleep until he was back at home safely. He never understood that my wanting him home at a reasonable hour had more to do with my being able to get a decent night's sleep than with setting some arbitrary curfew.

When my son decided to play football in high school I was more than a little grateful that his football team was not very good. And, he played cornerback so he rarely (if ever) got tackled.

When my son went off to college I no longer had that worry, though many other ones replaced it. 

And when Alexander decided to buy a car this past summer, I found a brand new big worry. Forget the fact that he never really drove before, despite getting his license in 2011. Will he be focused? Will he be smart? Will he ignore his phone? And what about all those other drivers? Even writing about all the unpleasant possibilities makes me anxious.

Recently two good friends of mine lost their twenty-something-year-old sons. Utterly heartbreaking. It is a vulnerable time in a young man's life, and all the decisions they make can, and sometimes do, have dire consequences.

There are so many things that can go wrong. Freak accidents. Close calls. Poor outcomes of questionable actions. Bad luck. Risky behavior. I look back on my own life and think of all the stupid things I've done, and feel lucky that the results were never that grave.

A few weeks ago, unbeknownst to me, Alexander and a good friend make plans to go South Beach for a few days. Yes, that South Beach. In Miami.

Did I want him to go? Of course not. Does he listen to me? Of course not.

He arrives home safely early this morning. So no arrests, at least. Now I have to worry for two weeks to see if he brought back with him any unwanted virus.

But Alexander had a great time. "Maybe the best four days of my life," he tells me. My son is happy. So of course I'm happy too.

a new post office strategy

With trepidation I write this post; here's why. 

In talking to a friend recently, he said, "I don't think you realize how entertaining your blog is." And I knew, from the way he said it, that this was not a compliment. 

He went on, "You're like an east coast female Larry David." 

Don't get me wrong, I love Larry David. But he is a cranky, curmudgeon-like person who continually annoys everyone around him.

"No, really," my friend continued. "It's not a bad thing. You just see something wrong and say something, while most people just think it."

So that's the background to today's little story about my local post office.

I am at the PO a couple of weeks ago and see that they have created two lines. All lead to the same row of two to three postal clerks. Kind of like most banks. But the addition of a second line is different from the one-line system that has been in effect forever.

I can't remember what line #1 is even supposed to be for, since lIne #2 covers every possible scenario of postal services. As a result, everyone is in one line.

Some random woman walks in and boldly goes to the line where no one is waiting. She is there to mail a package — same as everyone in the line I am in.  When I point this out to her, she ignores me and is called next.

I ask the sullen PO clerk the rationale for the new two-line system since the two signs are totally unclear.  She gives me an answer that is also unclear.  It is too early in the day to argue.

So this week when I go to the PO I see they are back to one line. Except it's labeled line #2 and there is no line #1.

When I finally get to a window I ask. "Why have a line #2  if there is no line #1?"

"Because we might bring line #1 back." That's the answer I get. 

I silently wonder what services are offered for line #1 since it looks like line #2 has them all covered.

Some things just aren't worth trying to figure out, and this has to be one of them.

finally, dinner out in NYC

February 24, 2020. 

A group of us meet to have dinner in celebration of Shari's birthday. I had no idea at the time that this would be my last dinner out, in NYC, for a very long time. 

Tonight, 13 months later, I meet a couple of friends for dinner at a real restaurant.  It's going to be a mini-birthday celebration. I feel as excited as Jimmy Fallon was last night, when he performed for the first time in over a year in front of a small, live audience.

My friends choose Quality Bistro because they know I love steak. They even do some fact-finding before we meet to insure that the outdoor dining set-up, and the restaurant overall, meet our unspoken criteria for staying safe. We are all vaccinated, but still uber cautious. 

Not only is this my first time out in forever, it's the first time I've worn shoes (ankle boots) other than sneakers in a very long time too. Or makeup. Or a non-T-shirt or sweatshirt. 

I am the first to arrive and am so impressed. I hope these kind of individualized structures are still up when COVID is something we are remembering and not still living.

Each sitting area feels like being in a private room of a nice restaurant.

The weather complies. No coats are needed.  And the heaters hidden under the benches we are sitting on keep us pleasantly warm. The food (snails and steak frites), the drinks, the service, the dessert, the company... all of it. Just perfect. 

first day of spring

Thursday I leave early and go to Physical Therapy.  My frozen shoulder is very much improved. I pretty much have full motion. If I can just avoid being arrested and being thrown up against a wall with my left arm bent behind my back and lifted, I should be okay.

I walk over nine miles. It's cold (low 40's), but walking in this weather for me is pretty perfect.

Today I walk to the American Folk Art Museum. It's small, and someplace I've never been. I'm there to see a photography exhibit of self-taught artists. It's interesting, but not interesting enough that I'd recommend it.

It's sunny, mid 50's, and NY appears to have awakened from a long COVID hibernation.  The park is flooded with people. And many aren't wearing masks. 

A few months ago I would have been annoyed, but not today. Inside people still wear masks, but outside, socially distanced? It kind of feels like hope.

There are small and large groups everywhere.

It's a beautiful late afternoon.

The trees are still showing no sign of spring...

 but that's okay; because the people are. 

a big one

In a way, I'm glad it's over. This birthday on the 16th really affected me. I know the alternative is worse, but still. How did I get this old this fast? And, why I do still feel like 40, and think of myself that way.

Alexander came up, and being with my son is always my most favorite gift (although I did get a couple of presents that came close). 

We didn't do much, but what we did do was fine. 

On my birthday we got up and moving late. Left the apartment around noon. Alexander wasn't up to being photographed because "when you take a picture, who knows where it might show up." But this one I don't think he can object to very much. 

We then took a 6.5 mile walk around Central Park, through The Ramble and over the Bow Bridge.

We even stopped at a museum I'd suggested. But when we got there, it was closed. I thought museums were only closed on Mondays, so I hadn't bothered to check.

For dinner, we decided on not going out, as it would have had to have been indoors, and I'm not quite ready for that. So Alexander got us roasted duck-breast dinners (one of my favorites) at Chez Nick's, a great little restaurant nearby.

I got calls and emails and FB posts from more people than I thought I knew. And not one single person close to me neglected to recognize my birthday in some way.

My mom sent me a stunning orchid plant that I adore. I hope I can keep it alive for a very long time. She knows how much I've wanted one.

A very close friend (who prefers privacy so I'll simply call her CF for close friend) gave me an incredibly thoughtful and generous gift. Wrapped in a box and enclosed in money were photos of beautiful women in different gray hairstyles and colors that would look good on me. CF knows how much I've been grappling with the decision of either waiting many more months or letting a stylist accelerate the process of going all gray. How incredibly meaningful this gift is!

Early on my birthday I was surprised with the best cake I've ever had from my dear friend Shari from Buttercup Bake Shop. The cake below doesn't quite capture the way the cake looked when it arrived.

And then another friend Shari sent me an Edible Arrangement that I won't feel too guilty eating.

Some friends surprised me with an Hermes bracelet that I've coveted for a while but would never purchase for myself. Now I have to practice putting it on.

My family got me the most perfect and gorgeous necklace from a designer my sister Jean introduced me to called Lizbeth. It is, in every way, perfect. One that of course wears well with everything. I love its boldness, its simplicity, and the care and thought that went into its selection.

And despite Alexander hinting of buying me a game console of some kind (knowing he would use it and I wouldn't), or anything I wanted "at Zales for under $75," he actually bought me something else. On his own, he decided on something from Tiffany's, and got me a gorgeous Elsa Peretti heart-shaped paperweight. It is being engraved so I haven't gotten it yet, but I will cherish it when it arrives. 

My friend M also coordinated a video but that I haven't seen yet. I am prolonging the joyful part of this birthday as long as possible.

More than the beautiful gifts, calls, cards, emails and FB posts, the day reminded me of how rich my life is. Each person I heard from reminds me of both current times and those past. Of jobs I've had. Men I've loved. Colleges I've attended. Bookclubs and Canasta games I've regularly participated in. Other mothers I've met through Alexander. People I've met through other friends. And a family I am so lucky to have.

So while the number on my cake may be something I don't like, the years behind the number make me grateful beyond words.

city living

I like her. I really do. She's very nice. And she's lived in the building longer than I have, and I've been here for over 28 years. But still.

Over a year ago, I start having bug problems. Big, ugly waterbugs showing up in random places, and always dead or dying.

I write to my landlord and ask for help. I also request that my neighbor's apartment be inspected, as I think her apartment could be the cause of my bug problem. For years, I've suspected that Brenda (not her real name) is a hoarder. And as far as I know, no one has even been in her apartment, including the building superintendent and maintenance people.

In January 2018, a law was passed in NYC requiring annual apartment inspections. I include this (multiple times) in emails to my landlord. Local Law 55, says, in part, "multiple dwelling owners will be required to annually inspect units for indoor allergen hazards, including mice, rats, roaches, and mold."

My landlord is responsive to the bug issue (an exterminator has been to my apartment more times than I can count). But as for inspecting Brenda's apartment?  Well, months of writing with the same request are ignored. Or I get evasive, non-committal answers, such as:

Also are you sure Apt. X is a hoarder?   (Feb 24, 2020)

I will let you know when we are able to inspect Apt. X.    (Mar 19, 2020)

Lyn. I do not know why you are so concerned with Apt X. Has this tenant done something that I don’t know about?    (May  16, 2020)

The bug problem persists, and despite many concerted efforts, no cause has yet been determined. It may not be Brenda's apartment at all. But still, if she is a hoarder, that is dangerous to all of us living on the same floor. It's a fire hazard, a potential rodent or bug issue, and probably other things I don't want to think about.

Today, I pass Brenda's apartment on my way out, and see this posted to her door:

I do feel a bit bad. As I said, Brenda is a very nice person. She does have a boyfriend with whom she lives part-time, and a sister. So she won't be out on the street. But it's not fair to others who live near her to be at risk —  even if hoarding is a type of mental illness.

I'm grateful that my landlord finally has taken some action. But those big ugly bugs still do appear periodically in my apartment. Three, just last week.

I'm sure I can now look forward to the banging and drilling that comes with an apartment being renovated for the next tenant.

Ah. The joys of city living.  Still, I can't imagine wanting to live anywhere else.

free at last (sort of)

Today is two weeks out from my second vaccine. I should now have about 94% protection against getting COVID-19, and 100% protection against getting a very serious case of it. After a year of living in varying states of fear, it certainly feels good.

Yes, I will still wear a mask outside. And I will still avoid very crowded places. But now I can finally start looking at a calendar that isn't totally blank except for physical therapy appointments (my frozen left shoulder is very much improved).

A while ago I made a list, and now I can finally start acting on it.

Medical:

• Get annual check-up.
• See podiatrist.
• Make appointment for eye doctor.
• Have teeth cleaned.

Beauty:

• Get a much-needed manicure and pedicure.
• Use almost-expired Groupons to get a facial and massage.
• Have eyebrows shaped.
• Get hair-cut.
• Use one of two credits for Korean body scrub at the Tribecca Spa of Tranquility.

Boring stuff:

• Get enhanced REAL ID.
• Apply for SCRIE (unimportant what it is, but it involves going downtown to a state agency).

For fun:

• Invite friends over for movies, TV, dinner, anything.
• Eat outside at a restaurant.
• See photography exhibit at the American Folk Museum that I read about in the NY Times.
• Go places/do things unmasked, with fully-vaccinated friends.
• Maybe travel with other vaccinated friends.
• See my son more.

Not on my list, but something I can now feel more comfortable doing, is taking the subway or even a VIA. I keep track of my spending, and —not surprising, I spent $1,251 on local transportation in 2019, compared to $80 in 2020. That alone speaks volumes on how localized my life has been.

I may not do everything on my list, but the possibility of it all is empowering.